Know
by imaginethatx
Summary: "My name is Percy and I know that if she just gave me a chance, she would know everything about me. And she would love everything about me." **I do not own Percy Jackson or the characters, everything belongs to the talented Rick Riordan**
1. Chapter one

I know that she likes crunchy peanut butter, not smooth and that she only wears blue jeans, and every second Friday she will wear a dress. I know that she is a vegetarian and enjoys physics over chemistry and I know that if she could go anywhere in the world it'd be Greece. I know for a fact that she prefers baby Ruth to Reese's and that she wants a Labrador.

What does she know about me?

I'm certain she doesn't even know my name.

I know everything about her.  
I love everything about her.  
And I know that if she just gave me a chance,  
she would know everything about me.  
And she would love everything about me.


	2. Chapter two

Every day I see her. Whether it is in the halls or in class and she is beautiful, even if she is wearing jeans with holes and a tattered t-shirt. Her hair is long and gorgeous. When I look at her I look at her for the first time because she is ever changing. She will never be one person; she is a thousand different people. Her many faces make up her face and I want to know them all. If only I could just _speak _in her presence.

I look to my right and there she is. Her hair is up exposing her neck and I sigh. She looks up and stares at me, her grey eyes are stormy. She's hurt. And when she hurts I hurt. I wave and she waves back. I turn my head to my literature text book and smile.

"Okay, class, we are going to do an activity" Mr Hadding says clasping his hands together. "I want you to think of a sentence that describes everything"

Everyone looks around because we don't exactly know what he means. But I close my eyes and really think. People start shouting out random answers like pornography and bad reality TV shows. I open my eyes and I look over at the girl, and she is staring at the board. I suddenly know what I need to say and so I say it

"My world has never been more alive and more perfect, but it has never been so dead"

The teacher claps and some of my classmates but they don't know what I'm really talking about. They think that I am talking about everything but they don't know that I am talking about the girl one to my right and two down.

Walking home from school has always been my favourite part of the day. Sometimes I see her sitting down at her favourite coffee house. It's called _Remy's, _occasionally I go there because I might see her but I usually don't. But the coffee is nice.  
Hiking my backpack up even more I decide to look up. Everything seems different. People walk and look down as if they're criminals doing hard labour and paying off their debts, ridding themselves of their sins. But seeing the city from a new perspective makes me appreciate it. I squint toward the sun admiring the view and basking in the light and then I hear her. She's calling out. I turn around out of habit because whenever she speaks I'm mesmerised. She smiles and waves and comes to a stop in front of me. For a moment I'm confused.

"Hey" she says quietly, "I'm Annabeth Chase"

"I know" I say just as quietly "I'm Perseus Jackson, but everyone calls me Percy"

She sticks out her hand and I take it. Her hand is small but it's rough as if she has laboured. She drops her hand and folds them in front of her body. "I really liked what you said, you know, in literature today, I thought it was really… profound" she says as a blush spreads over her cheeks.

I blush too, at her compliment and because of our interaction. "Thanks" I say looking down at the ground.

"Well, see you soon Percy, have a good weekend now" she almost whispers as she runs off

I stand there for a little while longer, gobsmacked at what just happened and then I smile. Not one of those half assed ones like 'yeah your joke was funny' but one of those ones where it physically hurts your face and you can't stop because you're just so happy. Because right now, my world has never been more alive.


	3. Chapter three

Every day when I get home mum usually assaults me with her questions, and today is not very different.

Mum: How was your day?

Me: It was okay, how about yours?

Mum: It was okay, anything interesting happen?

Me: Not really, mum

Mum: Are you sure?

Me: Yes, I'm pretty sure

Mum: Did you make any friends?

Me: No, mum, I did not make any friends

Mum: Okay, dinner will be at six

And that's usually our conversation for the afternoon until maybe dinner time. When I go upstairs she probably thinks I am surfing the net looking for new pornography films but I never do. Nor do I stalk Annabeth on Facebook, or twitter or any other kind of social networking site. I sit down either at my desk or lie down on my bed and think.  
I know this may sound odd but I reminisce about the week. It isn't a happy reminisce, but more of a 'oh god why the heck did you do that kind of thing'. It's my very own brand of personal torture and I hate it with a passion. But for some reason I just can't stop doing it.  
Usually I try assessing myself out of ten what I did right, and then I give myself pointers on what to do the next week. It doesn't work though because if it did I am fairly certain that I would not be staring at my NIRVANA poster listening to BLONDIE and scoring myself out of ten.

I'd probably be out actually interacting with others who are actually my age and not my 34 year old mother. I mean, I have nothing against my mother but it isn't like we can talk about 'guy stuff'. Because she would never come up to me and say 'guess what I totally banged that girl last night' (because she's straight and just no)  
and I would not high five her, I'd probably vomit all over the place and cry or something like that.

When the smell of what I assume to be dinner can be tasted in the air I make my way downstairs to two plates of lasagne. I can sense already that she has something to tell me. She never goes all out for dinner. Maybe she got a new job or something like that. I sit down and start eating.

"I've met someone"

I choke. I put my knife and fork down and stare at her. She's beautiful so I understand if she has met someone. But sue me, she's my mother, and no guy on this planet is good enough for her.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Jonathan, I met him at work"

"I would like to meet him"

"Really, you are so difficult" she sighs

"Yeah, well, call me curious"

We finish the meal in silence, and it gets to the point where I can't sit down anymore and endure the awkwardness of the whole situation. "The meal was nice, mum, but I gotta go now, I'm expected somewhere"

Her dark green eyes, which are scarily like mine, light up. "Who" she says

I shrug on a jacket, scarf and beanie and wonder how I'm gonna get myself out of this one. I think for a little bit and come up with the idea of a fake person, fake name the whole shebang but that seems really sad to me. "Annabeth" I say. Her smile widens at the girl name and she stands up.

"Who is this Annabeth"

"A girl friend… Well a girl that is a _friend_"

I yank open the door and walk down the driveway and head down the street. I see now that what I said about Annabeth is way worse than making someone up. I walk to _Remy's. _She's there of course, with her friends. I sit in a corner and watch. She's at ease, but she's also uncomfortable. And suddenly I feel like I'm in my room rating myself out of ten. I give myself a minus twenty for being the most pathetic human being on the planet, and a another minus five for being a stalker.


End file.
